


off to the races

by blackswan (etprincipalis)



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Gangsters, NSFW, Organized Crime, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:35:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23877772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etprincipalis/pseuds/blackswan
Summary: This series will be a compilation of Alfie works/ficlets inspired by different songs all happening in the same universe in a a non linear form.
Relationships: Alfie Solomons/Original Female Character(s), Alfie Solomons/Reader, Alfie Solomons/You, Tommy Shelby & Alfie Solomons
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	off to the races

_my pussy tastes like Pepsi cola_  
_my eyes are wide like cherry pies_  
_i got sweet taste for men who are older_  
_it's always been so, it's no surprise_

_\- cola, lana del rey._

You watched as the two men shrugged off their coats and sat on the comfortable couches positioned in front of the wooden desk, one of them already lighting up a cigarette though it seemed to be less because of addiction and more like a habit to keep the anxiety at bay. The other one, one with broad shoulders who made his way around with the help of a cane spoke first. 

“Aye, luv, you can leave now, yeh? - he cocked his head towards the open door - “It’s a bit of a men only talk over here ya see.” 

“ _Alfie..”,_ Tommy started reprimanding him for his comment, when he was cut by your voice.

“Well, if it’s a men _only_ conversation, I suppose we have no business to be done here then.”, you looked at Thomas Shelby and smiled, “I hope you enjoyed the brief tour of my residence, you are welcome to leave now.” 

“What the fuck is that supposed to… ?”

You signaled your brother to leave the room, he followed without questioning closing the door behind him.

Alfie stared at Tommy not being able to finish the sentence before realization hit him, _oh, i see, she’s the fucking boss._

“ _Fuck, Tommy,_ **_-_ **he stared at the blue eyed man, “Why didn’t you fucking tell me eh, mate? No bother tellin’ me who’s really in charge of this fuckin’ thing, innit? ”

“Would that have made any difference in the way you treated me, Mr. Solomons?” - you interjected. “Or would you still have eyed me like a cheap whore on the way in?”

He paused.

“Alfie, - Tommy hissed quietly, “don’t you dare fucking answer _that_.” 

He ignored. 

“Well, _dove_ ,” He got up from his seat and walked in your direction, cane tapping lightly on the wooden floor, he paused a few inches from where you were standing, eyes boring on your frame as if he was studying a painting he had seen a million times, “I suppose...that if I knew”, he stepped closer, nearly closing the gap between the two of you, “I woulda've eyed you like an expensive whore instead.”

You scoffed and took a step back, walking towards your desk.

Tension was palpable in the air. 

“Would make deals with expensive whores, Mr. Solomons?” You asked. 

“I suppose that depends, heh? If this deal you talkin’ about refers to just me n’ you or if you want my mate, Tommy over here, get involved as well?” He stared at you and in that moment he could be entirely serious or joking and you wouldn’t know, his gravelly voice sending shivers through your spine. 

_He is a gambler,_ you thought, _a forger, a bookmaker and a disgustingly smart man. So far removed from how a proper gentleman would treat you, fuck...this is no time to be fucking careless_.

“Fair enough,” sitting on the chair behind your desk, you crossed your legs. The slit on your dress fell to the side revealing your bare skin. Alfie Solomons couldn’t help but look. _God fucking damn, this woman_ , he thought, _a fucking deceiving minx_. 

The first time he glanced at you he noticed something different, rather strange about the way you conducted yourself through the rooms, of your home entertaining your guests with your lovely smile. Silky hair, polished nails and perfumed skin all seemed to fit in with the large mansion and abundant wealth around you. Now, as he looked down at you he could see so very clearly what made you stand out on his view. What happened was that underneath the lovey dovey persona of the ideal _bourgeois_ woman, he saw a ruthless beast. 

_A gorgeous, ruthless beast_ , he thought, _fuckin’ hell, she be out here lookin’ like a goddess and is actually a fuckin’ demon_.

You smirked at him aware of his stare. 

Looking at him in that moment you studied his features. Broad shoulders and thick snarly beard, his tilted hat did nothing to hide the blue of his eyes. He was older, more mature than your usual lovers but still terribly alluring under the scruff he sported. The way he dragged his words with a thick accent made it hard not to be attracted to him. 

You thought about the irony of it all, your mother, _god rest her soul_ , as a young woman had a head full of dreams and a thirst for adventure, eventually ending up in France, she fell in love with your home country’s oldest enemy, had a french child and one in british soil, eventually dying in the war when she volunteered to go as a nurse, a desperate attempt to re encounter her lover, and there you were, years later, not judging her so hard anymore for being attracted to the wrong person.

_If the devil is handsome, is it entirely wrong to fall into the underworld for him?._

You had heard of Alfie Solomons, of Camden Town before. Just a year prior to that meeting your brother managed to get into some trouble at a tavern in his territory, a couple of his confided men had gotten into a fight that ended in the killing of the bar owner, a man who religiously paid Alfie for protection. You knew the situation was dire in the moment your brother ran into your office, rain soaking his expensive clothing, eyes red from crying, desperately clinging onto you so that you could tell him how to fix the situation. _I fucked up really bad, soeur_ , he had said, his french accent slipping out, _I fucking went into the lion’s den and poked him with a knife_. 

When it happened, you had just stroked your brother’s hair, hoping it would soothe his nerves and calmly told him not to worry, you would deal with it.

_If the lion dares to bare his teeth,_ you said, _I’ll stab him with my own claws._

In the end, some of your men were killed by Alfie’s, you ordered your brother to do the talking and orchestrated so that the two that were involved in the killing were executed and used as examples, _symbols_ if you would. You oriented your brother to pay him a hefty bribe that would also help him forget the whole situation and put it in the past. 

You knew that it wouldn’t completely fix the situation, fully aware of Solomons’ wits, but even with tensions high, if you were careful, kept your eyes open, you could foresee and remedy any strategy that he might develop to hit a blow back in the future.

Thankfully, things didn’t escalate any further though you were sure he hadn’t forgot. 

You definitely hadn’t.

The thing was: before, you rarely made appearances in front of the gangsters you dealt with in the business, preferring to keep your personal image and self out of the picture.

And in that moment, scanning him top to bottom, his broad shoulders, large hands, handsome lips, you wondered if whether or not it was time to break the golden rule of never mixing business with sex. It was crazy, you knew, but maybe that incident of a year ago could’ve been fixed in a different manner, a more pleasurable for the both of you. 

It was silly, but you couldn’t help but think those things, not when your journey was so lonely and men like him, _someone who is not gentleman_ , were scarce. It seemed, those who seeked to court you, were all very much in love only with the huge inheritance from your late husband. 

Not that you were actively looking for real love.

These individuals were often uninteresting men who were looking for a cash grab and also fetishized about making an honest woman out of you. Alfie Solomons most certainly didn’t need your money, and he wasn’t looking to play nice. He seemed like the type of man who didn’t care what you did for a living, noting also the fact that he wasn’t really into legitimate business as well. 

Somehow, in spite of his imposing behavior, you couldn’t really see him actively wanting to control a woman, maybe he’d be like that in bed, but in life, no. That definitely wasn’t his style.

For british high society, or so you were heard, you were considered a wild beast of a woman that needed containing. The horrific case of a Trophy Wife who had freed herself from her cage by murdering her own husband. A scandal for the ages. But a scandal that first of all, no one could prove was true, and that made so that these days you were the proud owner of more land across the world then the fucking Queen. 

It wasn’t that men didn’t approach you, in fact, they often did, kissing your hand and offering themselves to accompany you to dinner, all very sweet and gentle, but in the moment you were alone you could see it in their eyes what they really thought. You were a cash grabbing slut, not worthy of the food their dogs ate. They were disgusted by you and thought, mistakenly, that they were smarter than you, able to trick you into falling in love, a silly girl who needs to be put back in her place. 

For some of them, you simply got lucky and as long as they played nice, placing their cards right, they could soon take everything that was yours and would manage to put you back where you belonged, the gutter. 

So when that Alfie Solomons bloke walked in your home and looked at you with in truth, _fuck_ you could’ve fell in love there and then. 

When he saw you, he didn’t hide for a single moment what he thought. He didn’t need to play nice, he was Alfie fucking Solomons for Christ sakes. And these days, truth was underrated. 

You reached over your desk and grabbed a cigarette, Tommy rose from his seat offering to light it. 

“Alright, Mr. Solomons, I’ll clear things up for you, eh?”, You took a puff and let smoke fill the air, pointing the cigarette towards Alfie. “The only whore in here is the one that just walked out of the room with my brother so, you got terribly unlucky, sir”, you tilted your head at Tommy, “but if you wish to enjoy yourselves like the good boys you are, there’s a prostitution house near here that I’m sure Lescaut would be more than happy to show you.”

On the couch in front of you, Thomas Shelby eyed curiously your interaction with Alfie, unsure if what he was witnessing was a declaration of war or some twisted form of flirting. 

_What a vision, eh,_ he thought, _Alfie Fucking Solomons flirting with the black widow, what a twisted fucking lad._

“As much as it’s very nice of you to _care_ about our... _interests_ ,” Thomas Shelby spoke up, “I am positive that Alfie here and I, as we are very busy men, would appreciate to talk business first, don’t we, Alfie?” He looked at Alfie and in that moment you understood why he was a Peaky Blinder, his eyes alone could cut steel if necessary, dashing good looks beautifully masking his will to put anyone who crossed him wrong six feet underground.

Alfie stood still, staring at Thomas, only then turning to once again look at you.

“Yes, yes, business, first.” He sat down on the other chair, beside the one being occupied by Tommy, a naughty glimmer in his eyes that told you that you and him were nowhere near done, he was just postponing things to an occasion where you had no additional company. 

“Well,” You shined them a bright smile and leaned back on your chair, “ _business_ it is, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you liked it pls give kudos & leave a comment! 
> 
> as always i warn that english in not my first language so mistakes are bound to happen
> 
> if you have a song request, leave it in the comments.


End file.
